


Disrupting Rituals  (Getting on With Things)

by r_grayjoy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: daily_deviant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-17
Updated: 2010-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy/pseuds/r_grayjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the seven-year anniversary of the end of the war, Harry learns that there are some rituals that should be disrupted -- and perhaps even replaced with others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disrupting Rituals  (Getting on With Things)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for daily_deviant's Kinky Kristmas 2007 celebration.
> 
> The incredibly brilliant and talented artisticentropy rendered this story in comic form. Her work can be seen along with the fic here: http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant/93701.html.

  
**Disrupting Rituals (Getting on With Things)**   


It was hideous. Initially he had thought that he might grow accustomed to it, but each time he saw it, the monstrosity only appeared more grotesque. The base of the war memorial was a great, stone slab, the sides of which were covered with an incredibly biased list of names inscribed in magically glittering, shimmering gold. From the base rose the enormous effigy of a golden phoenix poised for flight. At least, it was supposed to be a phoenix. In reality, Harry thought it looked a good deal more like a crazed turkey in the midst of laying an egg.

Tomorrow, hundreds of wizards and witches would descend upon it in remembrance and celebration of the seventh anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. Harry would likely put in an appearance at the ceremony out of sheer sense of duty and obligation, but wouldn't stay any longer than propriety dictated he must. Today, however, he felt compelled to stand before the memorial, to read the names and remember those who were listed -- and those who weren't.

"It's positively atrocious, is it not?"

Harry hadn't heard anyone approach before the low, sardonic voice sounded behind him. He knew that voice, would recognize it anywhere. Without turning, Harry replied, "Mmm. Someone might even go so far as to call it 'a blight upon the landscape'."

"As I recall, someone did."

Harry smiled wryly, but gave no other response. After a moment, the voice came again, nearer this time. "I thought I'd find you here."

"What made you think that?" Harry asked, his voice impassive.

There was a derisive snort from Harry's left. "The fact that you've been here on the eve of the anniversary of the Dark Lord's defeat the last six years without fail could have had something to do with it."

Harry looked up sharply at the man beside him. Snape stood with his arms crossed, his layered robes and lank hair hanging like impenetrable black armor. "How do you know that?" Harry demanded.

"I _was_ a spy during wartime, Potter, and you're easier to track than a Death Eater with a broken leg and no wand. Besides that, however, I know you. You cannot resist an opportunity to feel sorry for yourself."

"Fuck you, Snape," Harry spat, turning to face Snape, fists clenched at his sides. "I don't have to take that kind of bollocks from you anymore."

"No, the savior of the wizarding world doesn't have to take anything from anyone, I would imagine," Snape sneered. "But someone still needs to put you in your place." Without warning, Snape grabbed Harry by his robes, spun him roughly, and shoved him up against the glittering monument. Harry's hips hit the edge of the base, and he fell forward onto his elbows. "Look at it!" Snape commanded, pushing Harry's head toward the phoenix. "Do you wish you'd died that day, Potter? Do you need something to make you feel _alive?_ "

"Let go of me, you b-- aah!" Harry's exclamation was cut off with a sharp gasp. He'd struggled against Snape's hold on him, but the wiry git had only shoved forward and sandwiched Harry more tightly against the monument. In the process, Harry had felt something firm press against his backside that was most decidedly _not_ Snape's wand.

"I think not," Snape said coolly. Harry never heard a spell uttered, never even felt Snape go for his wand before cords flew out of nowhere to wrap tightly around his wrists and bind him to the feet of the phoenix. Harry thought that there might be some appropriate symbolism in that, and maybe he'd see it more clearly if he wasn't in such a precarious position currently, bent over the bloody war monument with Snape's cock pressing into his right arse cheek.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry ranted as he bucked against the ropes. They held fast, and a small surge of fear coursed through Harry, followed by an unexpected and disconcerting jolt of arousal.

"Giving you what you're seeking," Snape replied.

Harry opened his mouth to argue that he hadn't been "seeking" anything, but if he had been, he was fairly certain that it wouldn't have had anything to do with being trussed up to a great, ruddy stone bird, thank you very much. Before he could get the words out, Snape was hitching Harry's shirt up and reaching for the fastenings of Harry's trousers.

"Snape!" Harry yelped, his trousers falling to the ground. "Oh my god, what are you--" Again Harry's protest was cut short as Snape shoved Harry's pants down to his ankles, then slid his hands slowly up the insides of Harry's thighs. A shiver ran through Harry in response to the caress, and, powerless to do anything else, he dropped his head forward onto his arm and groaned.

It amazed Harry how _hot_ Snape could be. As a student, he'd always thought of Snape as cold; a cold, unfeeling man with impenetrable, icy eyes lurking about the chill dungeons. Yet now, as they touched him, Snape's hands _burned_. Snape's fingertips trailed fire over Harry's flesh and seared their mark into him more deeply than any scar, any tattoo. And really, it made sense, didn't it? Harry knew enough about Snape now to realize that, behind his frozen façade, the man had spent years boiling over with all the things he'd suppressed.

"Potter!" Snape said, startling Harry out of his inopportune musing. "Pay attention!"

Annoyed at being chastised as though he were an errant student, Harry said, "Damn it, you ca-aaangh!" This time, he was robbed of his faculty for speech by Snape spreading his arse cheeks wide and _licking_ him from bollocks to tailbone. By now, Harry was more than a little miffed that he hadn't managed to complete half his sentences and was in danger of sounding every bit the inarticulate twit Snape had made him out to be in school. Another, shorter pass of Snape's tongue, however, led him to the conclusion that articulate speech was highly overrated.

A violent tremor coursed through Harry, and he sagged against the stone slab. Kneeling behind him, Snape began his assault in earnest. Harry's pulse sped and his cock swelled and lewd, rough syllables flew from his lips. Snape licked him, speared him, fucked him with his tongue until Harry forgot where he was, forgot how to breathe, forgot everything except the need building inside him. Only then did Snape pull away and rise to his feet, leaving Harry to whimper at the sudden loss.

A heartbeat passed, two, ten. Harry could sense motion behind him, and he waited, tense as a bowstring, for Snape's next move. His legs trembled, a bead of sweat rolled down his thigh, and finally, _finally_ Snape touched him again.

This time, as Snape plunged two fingers into him, Harry keened and came up off the surface of the monument as far as his bonds would allow. Abruptly, he realized that Snape's fingers were liberally coated with some sort of lubricant, and he questioned why Snape would have been so prepared. Had Snape come here expecting this to happen? Had he _planned_ it? Harry had only a moment to wonder before Snape crooked his fingers _just so_ , and Harry ceased to care about implications and ulterior motives.

Panting, Harry pushed back against the invading digits as best he could. Between clenched teeth, he bit out, "Snape! We're in a public place! Shouldn't you be _getting on with things?!_ "

Snape stilled his hand just long enough to say, "No," and Harry swore he could _hear_ the infuriating man smirking, damn him. Nonetheless, Snape withdrew again soon after.

Harry growled in frustration. "God, would you just gnnaaaaahhh _fuck!_ "

Snape entered Harry in one sudden slide, sending a current through Harry's body and dragging a ragged cry from his throat. Straining against his bonds, not caring if the ropes bit into the tender flesh of his wrists, Harry shoved backward, desperate to feel more of Snape inside him. When Snape began to move, it wasn't slow and it wasn't gentle. His fingers dug into Harry's hips and he drove into Harry hard and fast and rough; drove fear and doubt and guilt and rational thought away until all that was left was a primal, pounding rhythm.

As Snape surged forward again and again, Harry _writhed_. His hips bruised on the edge of the stone slab and the tip of his cock bumped against the side of the monument, leaving a tiny, slick smear of precome on the glittering surface. "More!" he begged, demanded, pleaded. "More, oh, god, just… a little… more, please, I need… please, oh!"

With a sound that was half a groan, half a snarl, Snape tore one hand away from Harry's hip and brought it down to wrap around Harry's cock. Four rough tugs from Snape was all it took. Harry's bollocks hitched up, the tightly-wound coil in his abdomen snapped, and Harry came, spurting pearly strands and wailing his release to the phoenix above him. A few hard thrusts more, and Snape went rigid and spilled himself into Harry with a shuddering exhalation of breath.

It was a few seconds before Harry's vision cleared and he realized that the cords had disappeared from his wrists. Oddly, now that he could move again, he found that he didn't particularly wish to. It seemed as though Snape didn't either. He lingered just a little too long, resting against Harry, his fingertips barely tracing Harry's spine, before he slipped out of Harry and moved away.

Wincing a little, Harry slid off the stone surface and gingerly began putting himself in order. Dark bruises were already forming on his hips, his wrists were raw, there was a tell-tale burn low in his body, and somehow, that was all perfectly all right with him. As he bent to pull up his trousers, his eyes landed on the ropes of cooling spunk decorating the side of the monument and running across several names. Jerked out of his hazy state and back into reality, Harry stood up straight, clutching his unfastened trousers around his waist.

"Oh Merlin… we just… on the war memorial!" Harry didn't know whether to be scandalized or amused, so he settled for a bit of both.

"I _was_ there, Potter," Snape replied dryly.

Gazing up at the massive phoenix, Harry mused aloud, "What would Professor Dumbledore say if he knew that we had just defiled the war memorial..?"

Snape snorted. "He would probably say 'Good show, my boys', while _twinkling_ at us in that damnable way he always did. And then offer us a lemon drop."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, a full, rich sound that rang out across the grassy field. It felt good. "I somehow suspect you might be right about that."

When Harry raised his wand to vanish the mess on the stone slab, he was stayed by a hand on his wrist. "Don't," Snape said. "Leave it. Let them come tomorrow to remember a war in which the majority of them never even fought and be appalled at the shocking reminder that life goes on."

Harry looked at the phoenix a moment longer, nodded once, and put his wand away.

"I'll see you tomorrow afternoon," Snape said as he turned and began to walk across the field.

"What? Wait!" Harry called after him. "You're going to be at the ceremony?" As far as Harry knew, Snape had never attended in the past six years. He'd even looked for Snape's dour face in the crowd, just out of curiosity, or perhaps in search of someone who _understood_ , but had never spotted him.

Snape paused and shot a glance back over his shoulder. "I've always been there, Potter."

 _Yes_ , Harry thought as Snape continued across the field, _he rather has been, at that_. He watched the familiar form retreating, the dark robes swirling and a strand of long hair lifting in the spring breeze. Smiling, Harry whispered, "And thank you."

Once Snape was out of sight, Harry turned and walked away from the war memorial without looking back.


End file.
